A Stroll in Ankh-Morpork
by SinclairWhite
Summary: Just a short story about Death. ...followed by other Discworld shorts.
1. Adaptation

I've been writing short stories based on random words I get out of my dictionary, one of which was 'adaption.' I've always liked how the human mind works in Discworld, which is also quintessentially the same way it works here. I'm not sure if I got the proper Discworld feel, but I tried. Ta ta.

S. White

Disclaimer: I do not own Discworld or any dimensions thereabouts.

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><p>Adaption<p>

The human mind is good at adaption. When it sees, hears, or otherwise notices something that does not fit within its overall worldview, it simply erased the offending item. It was a wonderful thing, really, how a brain could completely ignore something in spite of all evidence to the contrary. But while this adaptation and sheer bloody-mindedness was essential for the proper running of the universe, it really could be a real pain sometimes.

HELLO? A voice said in tones like the echoes in an ancient burial chamber. CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?

Death had slipped and fell on a patch of ice right in the middle of Ankh-Morpork and he would have been incredibly embarrassed if, firstly, he was capable of embarrassment or, secondly, there was anyone to notice. He had tried to get up twice already and his boney feet had slipped ad scrabbled again on the glassy surface.

THIS IS A RATHER AWKWARD SITUATION.

"Granddad?"

SUSAN? WOULD YOU MIND GIVING ME A HAND UP? BE CAREFUL, IT IS A LITTLE SLIPPERY.

"Of course. Why are you here?" Susan asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she grasped a boney hand and helped him to his feet.

JUST BUSINESS. A COUPLE OF MEN INSULTED THE TROLL WHO WEARS A HUMAN SUIT.

"Chrysoprase? Suicide, then. So there's nothing happening?"

THERE IS ALWAYS SOMETHING HAPPENING.

"I mean the Auditors aren't up to anything?"

NO.

"Nothing's trying to break in from the Dungeon Dimensions?"

I DO NOT THINK SO.

"No threats to the fabric of reality?" Susan said doggedly, like someone determined to explore every horrible possibility.

NOT THAT I AM AWARE OF.

"Oh. Really?"

YES.

The two of them stood in silence together while Susan turned over this strange complete absence of strange happenings in her mind. She looked mildly disappointed by it.

"Um."

ER.

"Sorry, yes?"

I WONDERED IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO JOIN ALBERT AND I FOR DINNER SOON? LOBSANG IS, OF COURSE, WELCOME.

Despite the fact that you can't even see him, Susan thought. But still, it was kind of him to make the effort. He was good at making the effort but not as good at actually succeeding. He just didn't understand people.

"Um, I'll talk to him about it and let you know."

YOU ARE WELL?

"Yes, thank you. And you and Albert?"

YES. I HEAR TIME AND LOBSANG ARE DOING WELL? TIME IS ENJOYING THE HOLIDAY.

"Yes, she is and Lobsang is enjoying having something to do."

SOME TIME FOR TIME, EH? Death said, giving her a boney grin, but since only a skull looked out at her from under the black hood, she probably shouldn't read too much into that. Susan stared blankly at him. THAT WAS A PUN, OR PLAY ON WORDS.

"Yes." She said carefully.

I WILL WORK ON IT.

"Oh, can you still come and speak to the children on Thursday?" Susan said, giving up and retreating to a safer subject.

YES. I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO IT.

"Alright. I'll see you then, then."

YES. GOODBYE.

Death watched Susan disappear into the crowd. A man accidently bumped into her and looked very confused for a second as his mind tried to grapple with the concept of hitting something that wasn't there. That was one of his talents Susan had inherited; she was very good at not being noticed when she wanted to be. The man shrugged and hurried on his way. Adaptation. The human mind was really amazing. Death took a step and there was a sound like dice clattering around in a wooden cup.

DAMN.


	2. Broken Down

Not sure how I did with the characterization. Granny has a pretty brilliant mind and it's harder to get into character with her. Ta ta.

S. White

Disclaimer: I do not own Discworld.

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><p>Broken Down<p>

Nanny Ogg sat in her chair in the middle of her cottage, tipping a generous measure of brandy into her tea, surrounded by the plethora of pictures and knickknacks given to her by her huge horde of children and relatives. She hardly moved as a noise which began on the edge of hearing slowly got louder and louder until the scream of tortured air was directly above her, passing, and died away over the trees. With a sigh she placed her heavily decorated cup on a tiny empty space on the table and stood, leaving through the back door. She tramped into the trees following the smell of singed air and twigs.

"Hello, Esme." She said cheerfully. "Your broom broken down again?"

"Those dwarves messed it up." Granny Weatherwax complained.

Nanny Ogg struck a match on a trunk and lit her pipe. "Why didn't you avoid the tree?" She looked up.

"It should have avoided me." Came Granny's voice from somewhere in the branches followed by a disapproving sniff.

"How're ya going to get down, Esme?"

"I'll manage. You just go get the kettle on, Gytha. I wants a cup of tea."

Nanny Ogg smiled to herself but obeyed. She was halfway back to the cottage when she heard the crashing of branches and a flood of cursing from behind her. She reached the cottage and dug around for another teacup. The pot she had just made was still adequately hot and she poured some into the cup just as Granny stomped in, shedding pine needles. Nanny added three spoons of sugar to the cup as Granny thrust her broomstick angrily into a corner and dropped into a chair.

"It's nice to see you, Esme." Nanny Ogg said happily, handing Granny the tea.

"I ain't here to visit, Gytha."

"Of course, Esme."

"I don't drop by for visits."

"Right you are, Esme."

"I'm here to borrow your crystal ball."

"Not a problem, Esme."

"Are you patronizing with me, Gytha?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Esme."

"Good."

"Magrat's doing well, I hear."

"Good for her." Granny sniffed. "I ain't got time for chit chat."

"So, how are things up your way?" Nanny Ogg said, smiling across her dried apple face and pouring herself another measure of brandy. She always enjoyed it when her friend came to visit.


End file.
